A Blind Eye
by I Am Chick Norris
Summary: After a man named "Song" takes the souls of his ancestors and renders him blind, Kenshi Takahashi must engage in a journey of revenge, gore and revelations. The journey seems intimidating and nearly impossible at first, but his talking 'companion' suggests otherwise...
1. Prelude

_"Lights can attract even the blind. It can lead you in the right direction if you learn to listen to it correctly..."_

 _The swordsman gripped his head at first, alarmed by the sudden echoing voices that occupied it. The voices spoke in unison and ranged from feminine to masculine pitches. It didn't take him long to realize that there were more than several of the voices speaking to him at once. Like a weird, demented choir. In his panic, however, he found it hard to take their cliché mask of "wise advice" seriously. All he knew was that he simply could not see anymore. Everything was black a side for an extremely dull patch of blue light._

 _"Find your way out. Allow Sento to guide you..."_

 _He only knew two things for sure at the moment. One was that he was angry. Very angry. He had been tricked into coming into this god awful tomb that had been abandoned for decades at least. He was angry at the fact that he, of all people, believed that he could trust a stranger to begin with. He knew that 'Song' , the name of the devious man that had lead him there, was much too friendly. He offered too much for a little of nothing which should have ultimately been a red flag from the start._

 _Second was the fact that he knew his arm was now broken in at least three different places. It was too tender to move and throbbed in an almost unbearable amount of pain. He had most likely injured it in the confrontation against Song, which quickly turned heated once he figured out that he was crooked. Unfortunately, the older man had overpowered him in the turn of events and tossed him on his back. He then held up his hand to him and began to absorb his energy in a odd gesture that he could not quite describe. Soon after that, everything went black and his voice begin to fade. He had left him for dead. And if he didn't get out of that place soon, there would be no doubt that he would succeed..._

 _"Kenshi Takahashi?" A voice asked. This time it was without the others and sounded like the person was near him. It sounded much like a woman, calming and affectionate._

 _Kenshi reached out in the darkness in a half-hearted effort to feel whoever was speaking to him, but was disappointed to only feel the sharp edge of a blade. It felt familiar. Much like the katana he saw before Song attacked him. He cursed under his breath as he kept feeling around._

 _Nothing..._

 _Curse the darkness._

 _"Who's there?" He finally gave up on finding the culprit._

 _"My name is Sento", she told him. "I am your ally. I will guide you out of here."_

 _Kenshi's eyebrows furrowed as began to grab at the air again. There was an odd feeling of relief and happiness mixed with sorrow that pinged his gut. He was reluctant at trusting strangers even more now, yet he had not much of a choice. He had to get out somehow and Sento had been the first voice he heard._

 _"Where are you", he inquired as his fingers grazed that same sharp edge. The woman sounded much closer than where she was actually probably standing._

 _She gave a light chuckle, "You are touching me, Warrior."_

 _Kenshi lifted an eyebrow and gripped the edge even tighter. Instinctively, he winced and pulled away. His palm was now moist with warm liquid and throbbed in pain._

 _"Why did you do that", she asked slightly perplexed as if that was the dumbest thing she had seen in awhile._

 _"Do not play games with me, Sento. If that is even your name to begin with. Where are you? I only feel a blade!"_

 _The woman was silent before sighing, "That is because I am the blade, Kenshi. I am the katana you sought. Now, pick me up so that I can guide you as promised. We cannot stay here forever and you are injured."_

 _The swordsman was never the type to believe in magic or supernatural legends. Even as a kid, he would scoff at the other kids at his school who would always express concern over silly things such as 'Namahagesedo' (a sorry excuse for a Boogeyman) or that stepping on cracks would result in spinal injuries of their mothers. However, a talking katana took the cake. There was no way he was not being tricked right now._

 _"You expect me to believe that you are an inanimate object that can talk?" He scoffed. "If you are capable of such amazing abilities, surely you can walk or float to move yourself, right?"_

 _He was sure he could hear a low moan of annoyance from Sento before she spoke again. "You're not far off, but no, I cannot at the moment. And right now, I need you to stop being so stubborn and do as I ask. I mean, unless you want to be stuck here forever. It would be a waste of life though."_

 _"You just said you were a talking sword for Heaven's sake! Who on Earth would believe that?!"_

 _Sento sighed._

 _"Yes. I know what I said sounds ridiculous, and I witnessed what happened to you. I would not be so easily persuaded after that happening to me as well. Although I do promise that my intent is not to harm you. I am your truthful ally, your partner. And once you learn how to wield me, I will go through great lengths to protect you just as I did your ancestors."_

 _He paused for a brief moment, still reluctant at moving to pick Sento up by (he dare not say it) her 'hilt'. Even if everything sounded insane at the moment, she was right in a way. He needed her to get out of there, and he certainly did not know how to navigate through this darkness all that well. If he wanted to see the light of day again, he would need some help._

 _Slowly, he moved Sento up and wafted her through the air. She was light in his hands, but also deadly. So sharp that he could hear her blade cut through the atmosphere and slice the air. Like a glove, his hand molded around her cold metal hilt. She moved effortlessly with his wrist._

 _A perfect fit?_

 _"Good. Now hold still while I channel your mind. You will use me to see where you are going."_

 _He blinked and nodded._

 _Suddenly, he felt his brain pound against his skull in unison with his now racing heartbeat. He growled out in pain as he moved his hand to grab it, his fingers grasping at a section of his hair. The pain was extremely uncomfortable, and resembled that of an immense hangover after drinking far too much the night before. It felt as if his head was going to explode into a hundred pieces, and that was an understatement. In fact, it was worse than a hangover._

 _And then, something amazing happened._

 _For the first time since Song had abandoned him, he could make out everything around him in the room. The statue and throne place of the katana he was now holding, a dusty brown chest and a series of five unlit torches on each side of him. A thin hallway was directly in front of him as well, the same hallway that he had walked through with Song just a few moments before. Everything was just as he recalled. The only big difference (which was certainly hard to miss) was that everything was outlined in this electric blue color. Nothing had been its original hue, almost as if he was color blind._

 _Kenshi sighed and blinked several times to adjust to the light. This would have to do for now._

 _He kept scanning the room in hopes of Sento actually being a woman of some sort, but just as she promised, all he saw was the katana in his hand glowing the same tone of blue as everything else._

 _"It worked!" She exclaimed in glee which resulted in startling the swordsman. This time her voice, like the ones before, was in his head. Echoing and causing more discomfort with each word. He gritted his teeth at the katana. That certainly did not help with the headache._

 _"Could you not talk so much? It hurts."_

 _The katana rattled in his hand as if giving a sassy retort to his request. "I cannot lead you out if I do not talk, Kenshi. The pain will subside eventually. For now, you will have to deal with it."_

 _He sighed, irritated._

 _"Go down the corridor in front of you. It is the same one you entered by."_

 _He obliged by taking his steps, eager to leave the tomb. He could imagine that it would only be darker if he was using regular sight since there were no lighted torches. It was convenient, yet scary. He was not use to talking katanas and hearing voices. Maybe this was how it felt when someone lost their mind._

 _"There were voices...before. More than just you..." He pointed out while still walking at a steady pace and carefully avoiding rocks and stones._

 _"Yes. Those were your ancestors. The long line of Takashi warriors speaking to you from the afterlife."_

 _He lifted an eyebrow,"And I suppose you are an ancestor as well?"_

 _"No", Sento responded. "I come in many forms throughout each generation. I am the aid to your bloodline. I assure that each one of you live a fulfilled life. It is my job to serve you."_

 _"And then when we die, we end up back here?" He gave the katana a slight glare. He was unsure why he was unnerved by the fact that Sento was basically telling him things about his life that he hadn't learned yet. Perhaps it was a stab at his ego, for he thought he knew everything about himself. Including his pending future._

 _"It's highly likely. Yet, you make it sound much worse than it seems."_

 _"Oh? Please tell me why being stuck as a spirit in this tomb isn't the worse fucking thing that could possibly happen."_

 _"It isn't. There are more grim are among the luckiest of Takahashis. You are still young when you discovered me. "_

 _Kenshi made a sharp turn where the corridor ended and continued his pace. Ahead, he saw a glim of light. And although blue, he could tell it was the exit. His heart fluttered in joy. He never thought he would be so thrilled to see the lands again. Oh, how he could get back to his life again! Back to the fights and booze. The gorgeous women that would throw themselves at him!_

 _"Kenshi", Sento called out, breaking him from a rather lewd daydream involving his hotel room and a pair of half dressed Japanese twins._

 _"What is it?"_

 _"You do realize that your life will not be the same after leaving this tomb?" The swordsman grimaced at the question. Either that was a carefully planned inquiry, or Sento was able to read his mind. Neither of them sounded to pleasant to him given the nature of it._

 _"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice had taken on a more aggressive tone since he believe the katana had been hiding something from him all along. Growing up an extremely blunt man, he preferred to be talk to as such. Bad news was best told point blank even if it did hurt. And he couldn't help but feel that this was the path the conversation was going down. In addition, he could not help but feel alert thanks to Song's betrayal._

 _It felt like a long time before Sento began to talk again, and the silence felt all too familiar. It was the type of silence a person would go into when they began to hesitate. The type of silence that carried news that would be life changing. For some reason, it annoyed him. Of course he still didn't believe everything that she told him, but she hadn't given him a reason not to either. How else would she know his full name and speak to him via his mind? How else was she able to give him sight?_

 _"Sento?" He asked more aggressively. The silence was killing him._

 _She must have sensed it in him as well, because she didn't waste any time speaking after that._

 _"Do you remember what your ancestors told you just a few minutes ago? About the light attracting the blind?"_

 _They were out of the tomb now, and the warmth bathed Kenshi's skin. Everything was still outlined in blue, however nothing was its natural color. Not the sky, not the grass... Not even the sun..._

 _"What about it?" He couldn't understand why, but he was gripping her tighter. Holding onto her for dear life. His body was now trembling uncontrollably, like he had been caught outside in winter rain. His skull was still thudding wildly like a drum. Everything was so surreal even though he knew he was wide awake._

 _"They were telling you of your acquired disability. Song not only took an important part of you with him, he abused your ancestors and used you as bait to come here in the first place. He stole their souls to feed his own demented power, and in the process, rendered you completely blind..."_

 _The swordsman in a sudden panic and growing frustration began to shake even more. He had to let Sento's words sink in completely before his knees finally gave out from under him. He felt many emotions along with physical ailments. He was confused, shock and livid all at once. It was an odd feeling stirred along with his doubt. He wanted to yell and scream... Punch something. Anything. He was to vomit from the stench of the tomb. He wanted to pass out right there and never wake up._

 _Sento..._

 _She had to have been lying. He refused to believe that he was blind from Song's attack. Surely the reason he could not see was because of the tomb's lack of illumination and not because he was blind! He was perfectly capable of seeing, and he didn't need his dusty old ancestors telling him otherwise. He didn't_ _ **need**_ _Sento._

 _Quickly, he tossed the katana somewhere beside him. In that instant, his mind was free again. Free from her voice. Free from the immensely painful migraine. But what he saw was something that shook him to the core. Something that confirmed the katana to have said the truth._

 _Releasing Sento meant releasing the substitute for sight, and nevertheless, he saw darkness. Pure darkness. He only felt the warmth of the sun fading and the prickle of grass beneath his now sweaty palms. His left arm was throbbing even more prominently now under his weight, and his breaths were short and choppy._

 _"My god..." He mumbled under his breath. Realization was now settling in. He had no reason to doubt it anymore. No reason to deny or call Sento's words lies. It was the plain and blunt truth right there in front of him. The same darkness he had experienced in the tomb just minutes before..._

 _He_ _ **was**_ _blind._

Author's Note: So I gave Sento a voice, and I made her a female. Well because, why not? Kenshi is the young and ripe age of 23, and most likely needs a motherly figure in his life to boss him around! Lol. Of course this is only the prelude to the story as I want the chapters to be longer than this. The story will mainly involve Kenshi Takahashi and the growth of his character, because he was not always the cool, calm and collected Kenshi we see in the recent installments of Mortal Kombat games. Please review if you have any criticism, questions or just plain old comments! Thanks. :)


	2. Chapter One

_**A/N: So this chapter I decided to sink a bit deeper into Kenshi's life some years before he was blinded. I took a jab and created his father through how I would see fit, so not everyone may agree on it. Also, I took some advice given to me, took my time, and tried to show and not tell as much. It might not be the best, but no one can say I didn't try. :P**_

 ** _Also this chapter was really hard for me to plan out and write, but I like the outcome! ^^ As always, review and follow if you like it! It can be my mini Christmas present lol. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!_**

* * *

 _Chapter One_

 _Nagoya, Japan_

 _5 years earlier_

Kenshi stared down at the steaming cup of tea that his dad had placed in front of him and grimaced slightly at the strong smell. His father, Shiro Takahashi, was the king of putting un-settling amounts of herbs in his beverages. Ones that he often claimed to be 'beneficial for health.' Even as his own son, he didn't know what all he would put in it. However, he did know that the taste was an ungodly blend of bitterness and something bordering mint. He wrinkled his nose slightly and smiled at his dad, careful not to hurt his feelings.

"I'm not really thirsty, father. Thank you though..." He used two fingers to push the cup off to the side.

Shiro grinned wildly, took a huge gulp and wiped the liquid from around his thin lips and full beard. He certainly had no problems with chugging it happily.

"You sure? I think this is the best one I've made by far! WHOO! Good for the soul!"

Kenshi pressed his lips together in attempt to hide an approaching smile, a reaction his dad would often get out of him no matter the situation. Usually when his father would sit him down to have tea, they would talk about serious things such as school or his grades. But today was different.

Today, Kenshi had turned 18.

"The entry to adulthood! The official certification of you being a man!" The older Takahashi clasped his hands together which caused his son to flinch in alarm. 18 years and he still was not use to his father's boisterous antics. He had learned, however, that it was part of his charm. Well, kind of...

"Son, there are so many things that you can do now that you couldn't do when you were a kid. Like uh...uh...strip clubs!"

Kenshi blushed a deep crimson before giving his father a pair of wide brown eyes. "You would condone that", he asked. Although he couldn't say that he was all that surprised. Shiro was obviously way off from the typical 'ethical parent'.

"I mean, I won't act like I was perfect at your age. But yeah, why not?!"

Despite his silly nature, Shiro was much more intelligent and talented than he had lead people on to believe. To the naked eye, he probably looked like a sloppy drunk because of his big round belly and uncontrollable fits of laughter. Yet, he was actually one of the happiest people that Kenshi knew. He always was the 'half glass full' type for as long as young man could remember, and never seemed to fret over everyday issues, no matter how distressing or pesky they were. His solution to everything was to smile and laugh. It was like his remedy.

The birthday boy shook his head nd let a soft chuckle escape. Sometimes having a "hip" father was a blessing. At others, it was a big drunken blob of curse. But he had come to love both sides regardless.

However, Kenshi hadn't had strip clubs in mind for celebrating him becoming a man.

"Well, I'm not particularly interested in seeing women."

Shiro's joyous face turned sour within a second as he slowly lifted one of his bushy eyebrows. "What...? Are you trying to tell me something son?"

"What...?" Kenshi blinked several times before narrowing his eyes in realization. "No! No! I was wondering if you could teach me something..." His eyes looked at the katanas mounted on the living room wall behind his father and then back at him.

The older man, catching onto his slickness, slowly smiled before taking a sip of his tea. "Learning, huh? You want to learn for your birthday?"

"If it involves you teaching me how to fight? Yes."

Shiro heaved a small sigh as he sat his cup on the table in front of them. A slightly troubled expression was now occupying his face, and Kenshi immediately felt a familiar tint of uneasiness. This wasn't his first time asking him, but his father had yet to respond with a 'yes'.

"Did you not like the other classes I put you in? Why are you interested in fighting with swords?"

"Because I admire the way you have done it father." He frowned and looked him in the eye. "If you don't think I'm fit for training or something, please let me prove otherwise. I'll be delligent and-"

"Son."

He stopped and closed his mouth. Shiro was looking at him with stern eyes. It was almost unnerving.

"It's not that I don't think that you're incompetent or anything. Hell, you're much smarter than I was at your age. It's just that I used to have to fight like that for a reason. It's not like I _wanted_ to learn it. This is more dangerous and you can hurt yourself-"

"But didn't you just say that I was a man now."

Shiro paused and stared down at him. He didn't want his father to think he was a child forever, and not training him over the fact that he might hurt himself was quite silly. He had hurt himself many times before when he practiced martial arts and injury in fighting was inevitable no matter what the style. He just wondered why he was so cautious of this one in particular.

"I don't know." He finally told him after they stared at one another for what seemed like eternity. "It's something I have to think about, Kenshi."

Defeated, the younger Takahashi frowned and stared back down at the cup in front of him. In his head, he knew part of the reason Shiro was reluctant about training him. It was because he was afraid that he would lose him, just as they had lost his mother. He wasn't a very overprotective father, but he was still a very cautious one. Which was normal considering the tragedy that took place some years ago that ended up being fatal for his mom.

The only real time that he saw Shiro depressed was 3 years ago when he had received the news that Kenshi's mother and her sister were in a bank that was targeted for robbery. He didn't know many details, other than it ending in tragedy as one robber opened fire when an employee reportedly "hadn't moved quick enough". His aunt and a handful of others lived, but his mother had lost too much blood and died on the way to emergency care.

Kenshi had told his father countless of times that there was nothing he could have possibly done, especially since she was visiting her family in the Netherlands. But no matter how many times he tried to save him from feeling guilty, his father would give a weak smile and pat him on the back to signal that he was alright. Even when he knew he wasn't. At night, Kenshi could hear his grandfather (his mother's dad) yell at Shiro on speaker phone. He'd call him all sorts of racist terms and terrible names in a drunken slur, and Shiro would sit there and listen while staring at the wall. Perhaps, he believed that he deserved it, even though there was no way he could have possibly known. His grandfather knew that as well, but just needed a reason to yell at his daughter's none native, Japanese husband.

It was sad to say at the least. The fact that he had an entire side of his family disclaiming him just because he was mixed was the most ridiculous thing he had heard in his life. And if it wasn't for his mother being such a caring and sweet lady, he would have disclaimed his half Dutch roots long ago.

Thinking back on that, Kenshi decided that he shouldn't have been too harsh on his father for not wanting to teach him. Maybe he had just been looking out for his best interests...

"Well, if you do decide to teach me, that's fine. But if not, I understand. I get that you want to keep me safe."

Shiro gave a warming grin and shrugged. "Like I said, I'll think about it. But for now, I want you to focus on your school work so that you can go to college and take care of me in a few years."

The freshly blossomed adult returned the grin and nodded in agreement. "Of course. How else will I feel accomplished in life if I can't take care of you in your elderly years?'

He chuckled and held up a cheap white bottle of rice wine. "Exactly!"

* * *

The warm afternoon sun huffed on Kenshi's neck as he sat on the curb outside his school reading the math notes his teacher had given him for finals. According to her, the notes were supposed to simplify the material the class had went over that afternoon, but it still looked much like a foreign language to him. Math was always a weird subject for him to grasp, especially since he had been a quick learner in almost everything else. He sighed, shoved the papers back into a plastic black folder and sat it to the side. That would have to wait until later.

His brown eyes then scanned the parking lot of the school. Most of the students and teachers began to clear out for the weekend nearly an hour ago, and here he was sitting and waiting for his father to come and pick him up.

The sound of teasing giggling caught his attention and he glanced over to see a pair of girls smiling in his direction.

'Laughing because I don't have my own car huh?' He mentally grunted and leaned his chin against his knuckles. Hopefully his father would hurry up...

One que, a blue Honda pulled into the driveway and made it's way towards him. He blew a sigh of relief and nearly sprung up from where he was sitting. Before the vehicle could come to a complete stop, he pulled the handle and jumped into the front seat.

"You're really late", he muttered once he settled in and dumped his bag in front of his legs.

Shiro gave him a small pout and lifted his arm above his head. "I know I am. But it's for a good reason this time."

Kenshi blinked and turned his body to where he could see the back seat of the car. To his surprise, there was a gold and white rectangular box with a golden strip of lace tied around the center. It took up a little more than half of the back seat and was thinner in width than it was in height. His eyes gleamed as curiosity nearly caused him to pluck the box right from his father's hands.

"What is this?!" It hadn't occured to him that he was smiling like a jester until he was nearly clawing at the lace to open it. The box felt a bit heavy even when he lifted it with both hands, so naturally his need for wanting to know what was inside reached its peak almost immediately.

"If you slow down long enough for me to give you a pair of scissors then you can find out."

Kenshi gave a timid smile, embarrassed by the fact that he was 18 and still acted much like a child when he was presented with a big shiny box. Maybe that was something that wouldn't change any time soon though.

His father opened the glove compartment, retrieved a small pair of tool scissors and handed them carefully to him. He eagerly took them and began to cut away at the delicate fabric. Once the lace snapped apart, he clawed quickly at the edges to remove the top. In the process, the entire box toppled and nearly flipped over into his lap.

"Hey!" Shiro yelled as he quickly grabbed the box and leveled it back out. "Careful. That gift wasn't cheap at all."

Kenshi smiled and tossed the box cover on top of his backpack. After digging through the thin paper like a puppy in dirt, his eyes grew in awe.

He knew once he saw the thin shining piece of metal and soot black hilt what he had been looking at. His father had owned plenty of them through the years, but they were always out of his reach; either mounted in the living room or bedroom or sealed away in a case. Never had he had one so close to one, especially one that was within his reach.

"You got me a katana... You actually bought one for me?" He was like a kid exploring a candy store for the first time, and whatever expression that birthed from his excitement certainly tickled his father enough to make him laugh.

"Yes. It is your very own katana."

"I-is it real?"

Shiro jokingly rolled his eyes and gave him a hardy pat on the back."Of course it's real. Why do you think I told you to be careful with it?" He took the box from his son and took out some more of the tissue paper to discard on top of the cover box. The front floor of the passenger's seat was going to be a mess.

"Now before you go off picking it up. I should tell you what each part of it is." Kenshi watched as he picked the sword up and placed it back into a long piece of plastic-looking casing. It slide in perfectly with on single glide. "This part right here is the scabbard That's very important so don't forget it. You can't just go around leaving it out now."

He nodded and observed the perfect shiny glint of light that reflected off the surface.

Shiro then pointed at the section under the scabbard and above the actual hilt. This section appeared to be more sturdy, as it seemed to be made out of a different kind of material from the sword completely. "Right here, you have the guard. The name itself should be self-explanatory. You'll use it tooo...?"

The young man continued to stare, as if he had been mesmerized by a beautiful girl.

"Son!"

He blinked and gave his dad a sincere apologetic grin.

Shiro, who had been a bit more serious than the norm, lifted an eyebrow at him. "I get that you're excited, but this is very important. This is a weapon so you have to make sure that you're well informed about what you're handling. I can't train you if you get all distracted like that."

"Wait...You said you would train me?!"

His father sighed and nodded. "Only if you can stay focused long enough to know what you're dealing with."

The entire ride home consisted of old stories of Shiro's fighting days and Kenshi's never ending list of burning questions. The topic itself was interesting, and staring down at his new sword seemed to be just as captivating as his father's tales of using one. Learning a new fighting style for him was always interesting. Whether it be Judo or Taichi, it had been like second nature for him to pick up even the most rigorous of skills and techniques. Even when he was one of the youngest students in his martial arts class, he would always surpass his peers and impress his teachers. The latter went as far as to even dub Kenshi the "Mini Genius" of martial arts.

Of course, he had a slight advantage since his father was a skilled martial artist and swordsman himself. He had mastered and earn black belts in several styles and had exceptional handling with katanas, javelins and nunchucks alike. Kenshi even had to admit to himself that his fast learning and discipline was because of his father correcting him each time he saw a flaw.

And Kenshi knew, once they stepped outside of their small little one-story house into the backyard, that he was going to have to work in order to reach his expectations.

With the handle of his katana in his right hand, he watched as his father walked over to the old shed and creeked the rusted door open. In all the years that they lived there, Kenshi could count on one hand how many times he saw someone open the shed door. So naturally he was surprised when he witnessed Shiro pull out a heavy looking dummy. It was dusty and matted looking, and perhaps whenever it was in it's new state, it was probably white. A faded, medium-sized circle was painted on the chest area of it, and had a few slash marks across it. He wouldn't have been surprised if the thing was older than him.

"Is this what I'm practicing on?" Kenshi asked while slowly advancing towards his father to get a closer look at the dummy. It looked even more old and unstable up close. He quirked an eyebrow and poked at one of the slashes. "It doesn't look like it can take anymore abuse from a katana."

Shiro chuckled and nodded in agreement. "You're right. It really can't. This is more of a test dummy for you. You won't be cutting into too much of anything your first month of training or so."

Kenshi blinked and frowned. "First month...?" He sulked. He knew that training with his father would be a painfully long process, but a month before he actually got to use his katana regularly seemed much too long.

"Yep! Like I said before, that is a weapon so I need to make sure you'll be ready to truly handle it. For the next four weeks, we'll be focusing on using the most important sense in fighting."

"My...sight?"

"Nope!" He gave Kenshi a hardy pat on the back and then pointed to his ear. "Your hearing of course! Always remember that, son. Nine times out of ten, you'll hear your opponent before you can actually see them."

Confused, he lifted an eyebrow and stared back at the dummy. "So why did you take this out?"

Shiro pulled the dummy out to the center of the yard and straightened it out. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large black marker and poked the dummy right where it's heart would be.

"I want you to hit this guy precisely where I marked him at."

Kenshi walked up to the dummy and stared at where the black spot was. It was tiny, but bold. He laughed and began to unsheathe his sword. Surely, his father would have to challenge him more than this.

"Ah. Ah. Ah!" Large, rough hands stopped his right where they were. The younger Takahashi looked up at him, perplexed.

"I want you to do it blindfolded."

He gave his dad an expression as if saying, "Are you serious?" How would expect him to do that when they had just started? Of course he had been eager to use the weapon, but being blindfolded seemed to be a bit on the extreme side. Besides, his father was just warning him about being careful just a minute before, and now he wanted him to handle it without his sight?

"Father", he sighed while looking back at dummy. "I know I should never question the way you decide to go about training me, but how am I suppose to do that without being able to see?"

"Oh! It's possible. Like I said before, your hearing is a very strong sense. Especially in fighting."

"So how am I suppose to _hear_ a test dummy? Unless this thing moves?"

Shiro chuckled as he held out a thick black strip of cloth to his son. He took it slowly and stared before looking back at his father for further instruction. He could feel a bit of anxiety rise in his stomach as he quickly came to the conclusion that there would be absolutely no way that he would be able to hit the target with a blindfold on. For some reason, that seemed like something only an expert could do, not someone who had never owned a sword in his life.

He was ashamed to mentally admit that he was starting to question this whole training session already.

Of course he couldn't tell his dad that though. He had been hounding him for years to give him a chance at becoming his pupil, so quitting on his first lesson would be nothing shy of pathetic.

Locking his jaw, he pressed the blindfold against his eyes and felt for his sword. Other than a few speckles of sunlight here and there, all he could see was pure black. He took into account that he could still hear the crunching of his father's footsteps, and almost feel the vibrations of him shifting to the other side of him. Carefully, Kenshi drew the katana from the scabbard, the sound of the blade pulling out echoed through the air and ranged in his ear.

"Father, I'm nervous. I don't know where the blade is pointing."

He felt his father's hands touch where his were gripped. "Relax, Kenshi. I won't let you chop anything important off." He joked.

Kenshi glared through his blindfold and gripped the handle tighter. He was slightly relieved that he was back to his immature ways, but now certainly was not the time.

"Father..."

Shiro chuckled and then loosened his grip. "Try hitting the dummy first and then focus on the spot I marked. All you have to remember is that the blade will always be directly in front of you regardless. You can tell where you're pointing it based on the way you're handling it. And like I said, relax. Being tense and flustered won't help you when you're in the heat of battle."

So, he did just that.

He unclenched his hands and took a deep breath. And then slowly lifted the weapon to thrust it forward. Suddenly, he felt the tension of the dummy push back onto the blade, and the sound of it puncturing the material of it made a soft, muffled pop.

'Okay,' he thought to himself, 'that was the easy part.'

"Good. You punctured his abdomen. Now for you to hit that spot."

Kenshi spent a good portion of the following month doing a lot of things based off of his dad's voice. Most of his afternoons were spent on him sweating away in the back yard trying to hit the black dot without poking hundreds of holes into the dummy itself. The first week, his pokes and slices had been everywhere: legs, arms, stomach and even the head. The second week, he had become a bit more comfortable, coordinated and was almost able to consistently hit the torso section with his slash. The third week was similar.

The fourth week of his training, he had began to become a bit impatient and angry and furiously hacked away at the arms of the dummy until they had fallen completely off. Shiro watched with a lifted eyebrow and told him that if he wanted to really learn, he would have to calm down and be focus. It was a week that they both had learned that Kenshi needed a bit more discipline and possibly an anger management class...

Surely enough, when he did just that, he had found himself becoming more and more precise. Even though he wasn't always hitting the black dot, he was becoming accustomed to where he was supposed to aim. By the time, Shiro had revealed to him the real reason behind the exercise, which left his son rather dumbfounded.

"So you're telling me that you had me do this for a month just so I could learn how to become patient...?

His father was sitting in the lawn next to the dummy while drinking another pungent-smelling cup of his tea. "Of course! I never expected you to hit the spot while blindfolded, I was just testing how long it took you before you got frustrated. And also if you were gonna quit." He smirked and gulped down the rest of the cup's contents and placed it next to him. "You did pretty well I suppose."

Kenshi could feel his face heat from slight irritation and annoyance. Here he was genuinely working to complete the task Shiro had given him, and it wasn't even...possible?

He shook off the urge to pull out every strand of his hair out and scratched the back of his neck. "So does that mean we can go on to the next thing?"

To his surprise, Shiro nodded.

* * *

Shiro sat in his chair sipping away at his bottle of sake and staring at the picture of his now disbanded family. His wife, Valerie, was hunched over their son with a smile that appeared as though it was painted by angels themselves. She was wearing a white dress that accented her fair skin and long, wavy brown hair. It was his favorite...

Kenshi was only about 9 in the picture, and was fidgetting under his mother's grasp. His attention was drawn by something else that wasn't quite visible in the photo, but he was sure that it had something to do with food. He was in a dark black jacket, a shirt with some sort of superhero flying on it, and a pair of khaki shorts. His black hair was also unruly then, and blew in all directions.

Shiro himself was in a green dress shirt and a pair shorts. He distinctively remembered running between the two and the camera to make sure it was operating properly. Valerie had urged him to hurry so that he wasn't left out in the final product so that they wouldn't have to set it up again.

He would have never guessed, not in a million years, that he would have to live his life without her. Each day he woke up alone in the bed, he was reminded of the dreadful day she decided to leave him and Kenshi. The painful phone call from his sister-in-law, the foul cursing of Valerie's father, and the heartbreaking sobbing that his son bursted out into when he told him. He could never forget the burning in his chest, the weakening of his knees, and the salty taste a never ending stream of tears. It felt as if his spirit flew from his body when her name was put into the same sentence as "dead". The living room blurred with each sentence after, and he couldn't quite recall if he had passed out.

He never understood why she had to go... Out of all people.

Quietly, he sat the photo on the nightstand next to him. A bittersweet smile played on his lips as he grazed the surface of the photo softly. "I hope you're not angry, but I decided to teach Kenshi how to use a katana after all..." He paused as he imagined his wife lifting an eyebrow and laughed to himself. "Yes. I know you said not to, but I won't let anything happen to him..."

Shiro sat back in his bed and adjusted the sheets over his leg. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes and threatened to roll out for the second time that night. Although she had been dead now for nearly five years, her absence was just as fresh as the pain that gripped his heart every night.

Despite his son's words of encouragement, he was always met with a tidal wave of guilt. He always wondered what would be of her if he had went with her to the Netherlands instead of staying behind with Kenshi because he feared his in-laws' opinion of them. Perhaps he could have went there with her and saved her from the attackers. Heavens knew he would have taken the bullet for her.

But it was too late now. Valerie was gone. Her existence had faded from the face of the Earth, with only their son as a sweet reminder...


End file.
